After the End of the World
by rjs0123
Summary: PostIt's the End of the World. How does Meredith cope with the aftermath of the bomb detonation? Slight MeredithDerek


**After the End of the World**

_by rjs0123_

* * *

Meredith was in a state of shock. How could she not be; she had just seen two men die right before her eyes!

Of course, as a surgical intern, Meredith had seen death. She had seen it attack suddenly in the OR, had seen it slowly devours its victims, and had seen in come on under inexplicable circumstances.

But never had she seen it so unapologetic. One moment, they had been there, healthy and sure of themselves as they did their jobs. The next moment, an explosion and suddenly they were gone. Vanished, the only evidence that they had ever inhabited the planet where the memories living in the minds of family and friends and the fine pink mist that coated everything in the surgical hallway.

She didn't remember how she got out of the hallway and into Izzy and Cristina's capable hands. She didn't feel the water running down her face, intermingling with her tears, dragging the pink mist away. She didn't feel the water as it drenched her hair and added pounds to her weight. She had no knowledge of the ride back to the house that she had practically willed away just hours before.

All Meredith was aware of was the overwhelming sense of loss for Dylan Young, a man that she had only just met. And guilt. An all consuming guilt ate at her, constantly reminding her that it could have just as easily been her. It could have been her body utterly decimated. It could have been her blood splattered uncaringly about the surgical ward. It could have been her mind gone, lost forever before it had a real chance to make an impression on the world. It could have been her heart, lost while still in the midst of heartbreak. It could have just as easily been her grave marker being inscribed with the words _Meredith Grey, beloved daughter and friend_.

* * *

It was after incidents like these that you cling to the person you love. You cry on their shoulders as they comfort you. You let their passion consume you, reminding you that you are still, inexplicably alive.

But Meredith had no such person to reach out to. No person to comfort her as she cried. Her friends had tried, but it just wasn't the same. Even Derek's visit in the foyer of her mother's house had been a place imitation of the comfort she longed for. Blathering on and on about their last kiss was not the way she wanted to spend her few seconds in Derek's familiar presence.

And so there she lay, hugging a pillow, and trying to inhale his barely lingering scent. Her tears slid, unobstructed down her cheeks, staining the Egyptian Cotton pillowcase. Mourning the loss of two good men, who had just been doing their jobs and finally letting herself mourn the loss of a promising relationship.

* * *

She went to the funerals. She felt it was the least she could do – she had placed the bomb in their hands. She couldn't look the widows in the eye when she offered her condolences. She couldn't look at the children that had been left fatherless without seeing in her mind the explosions that had stolen their lives away so effortlessly.

When the funerals were over and the coffins (empty but for a picture and objects that only held significance to the loved ones) were lowered into the ground, Meredith found herself wandering through the cemetery. She read the headstones, wondering what type of person each had been, who they had left behind, how they had died. She fingered the cold, hard text on a number of them, reflecting on all of the unanswered questions left by the sparse words on the cold slabs of granite. How could anyone think a human being could be condensed into a full name and a couple of dates? The ones with epithets weren't much better; it was a rare sentence that could sum up an entire life.

As she moved on, she read the name Ellis on a headstone. For a moment, she wondered whether it was her mothers. But no, her mother was still alive. Suddenly the hard truth hit Meredith – her mother wouldn't be around much longer. Meredith staggered to her knees. Tears surfaced again as her body was wracked with silent, convulsing sobs. She didn't move, even as the heavens opened onto her.

That was where George found her, her black dress soaked to the sin, mud up to her knees. Kindly, he cleared the muck from her extremities, wrapper her in a blanket, laded her in the car, and drove her home.

* * *

It was a couple of weeks before she managed to make it back inside the hospital. Her friends had been patient with her – driving her towards the hospital when she insisted and back home when the memories became too overwhelming.

Everyone had been to visit her, trying to coax her out of her depression. Cristina practically moved into the house in her efforts to help her friend.

Burke had come over a number of times, ostensibly to see how Cristina was, but without fail, he ended up making them a home cooked meal. Most of the time, he delivered it straight to Meredith, who refused to leave her room.

Alex had visited one night when the other interns were pulling a long shift, and had rocked her back to sleep when her nightmares work her.

Even Bailey and little baby William George had made the trip into Seattle's suburbs.

The visit that had surprised her the most was that of Addison Montgomery Shepard. When Izzy told Meredith who was at the door, it had roused her from her funk enough to try and deny Addison entrance to her room. Addison, it turned out, was more patient than Meredith.

The visit was exceedingly awkward. Meredith didn't know what to say to Addison and stayed determinedly silent. Just as Meredith began to contemplate going to sleep again, Addison spoke up.

"He's worried about you," she admitted unwillingly. The next phrase took even more for Addison to utter. "He loves you."

* * *

The day of her return to the hospital, Meredith tried her best to pretend everything was normal. To everyone else, it was apparent that she wasn't. She patently avoided the hallway where the explosion had occurred and refused to step inside an operating room. But she did her rounds, took care of her patients and filled out her paperwork, so everyone turned a blind eye to her fear.

After she thought all the interns and most of the surgeons had gone home, she slowly approached the hallway. Step by step she inched closer to the site of the detonation. In the weeks she had been away, everything had been cleaned up. New windows had been installed and the walls had been repainted. There was nothing left to hint at what had happened.

She turned to lean against the wall as her knees began to wobble. Slowly, she looked towards the heavens, and was imminently glad for the support of the wall behind her. The ceiling tiles above her head had a coating of fine pink mist. The ones in the middle of the hallways where the fire would have lapped at the tiles were new, but the ones on the edge had been overlooked. The last remaining evidence.

She felt the need to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.

"Mer?" Derek's voice floated down the hallway. She didn't look at him, hoping he would go away and leave her in peace.

"Mer?" The sound of her nickname said by his voice broke the dam holding back her tears.

"Mer?" his voice was closer and carried more urgency this time. Slowly she turned to face him, wiping at her tears as she did so. "Meredith, what is it? You seemed to be doing well today, what happened?

As surprised as she was that he had noticed her at all during the day, she didn't let it show. She jerked her head skyward and he raised his eyes, quickly zeroing in on what had her so upset. "Oh, Mer," he said, gathering her into his arms.

"Pink mist," she squeaked out between her tears.

"Shh," he implored her as he ran his fingers thorough her hair, gently, calmingly.

"I handed him the bomb," she sobbed brokenly.

Derek's heart dropped at the despair in her voice. "Oh Mer, I'm so sorry."

She leaned further into his body. This was what she had longed for for months; his sympathy, his touch, his understanding. She knew it was probably temporary, but being wrapped up in his arms felt too good for her to care whether it was ephemeral or not.

She didn't know how long they stood there, under the blood covered tiles; each gathering strength from the other. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. All she knew was that she felt safer when she was in his arms than she had felt in a long time.

Reluctantly, she pulled away to look into his eyes. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he beat her to the punch.

"Let's go home Meredith."

The word home had never sounded so good.

The End

**

* * *

AN: I don't know what it was about that episode, but it pulled me right back into fanfiction. I could really use some constructive criticism - it's been a while since I've posted anything. Please review and let me know what you thought!**


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